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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26208208">dye me with you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/childofthenight2035/pseuds/childofthenight2035'>childofthenight2035</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>GOT7, JJ Project</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Alternate Universe - Selective Colour Blindness, Color Blindness, Colors, M/M, lapslock</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:20:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,659</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26208208</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/childofthenight2035/pseuds/childofthenight2035</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>jinyoung wishes, every now and again, that he could see everything.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Choi Youngjae/Park Jinyoung, Im Jaebum | JB/Park Jinyoung, Kim Yugyeom/Park Jinyoung, Kunpimook Bhuwakul | BamBam/Park Jinyoung, Park Jinyoung (GOT7)/Everyone, Park Jinyoung/Jackson Wang, Park Jinyoung/Mark Tuan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>84</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>dye me with you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>so, i got very tired of the 'everyone-sees-only-grey-until-they-meet-their-soulmate' au, however intriguing it is, so here is 'everyone-only-sees-greys-but-gradually-see-other-colours-as-they-form-relationships-with-different-people' au</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>the world had never been just grey for jinyoung. not as long as he could remember, at least. he could always see the colour of the vase in the living room, though he’s still not sure what that colour is called. it’s some shade of red—perhaps a little brown in the mix. he doesn’t know. it’s never bothered him, not knowing, but now, as he enters the first semester of his master’s programme on colour science, he thinks he should have tried to find out. </p><p>it’s ridiculous, really, that there still isn’t a definitive reason as to why humans see colour this way. it’s almost like how there still isn’t a conclusive theory as to how the universe originated or how the dinosaurs went extinct, but there’s still a widely believed one: minute chemical differences in the body that influence vision. jinyoung spent most of his first year in his bachelor’s degree course being told about it. there have been so many studies on it, and yet, people with differing views don’t allow this to be the accepted one. it sometimes annoys him, but for the most part, it doesn’t affect him, either. he believes what he believes. </p><p>humans are all born seeing only black, white and greys. his parents had nearly sobbed with relief, they told him later, when he first indicated that he saw colour—the vase in the living room. it wasn’t apparent to him until he began going to school that the colours that slowly bleed into his vision were because of the relationships he formed with people he met. the colour of the vase? he began seeing that because of his mother. he hadn’t known, but after he was born, she was also able to see the vase in all its vibrance. his father saw the colour of the sky for the first time because of him. he still cries thinking of it. </p><p>jinyoung often wonders if there are people who lived their entire lives without seeing any colour. and the contrary, too, he supposed—people with lives so full of people and beautiful relationships that they no longer see any grey. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>shikisai</em>
</p><p>yugyeom was jade, and jinyoung bumped into him on the subway three years ago, one night after a pride parade that they both had attended. jinyoung was anxious about getting back to his dorm safely, knowing well the sort of things homophobic people were capable of doing, so his flag was already folded into his backpack and his sleeves pulled low over the paint on his arms. </p><p>but yugyeom was sitting rigid, still, tears streaming down over the flag colours painted on his face, colours that jinyoung couldn’t see yet. it broke his heart, that not many of them could see the rainbow of the flag, but it was still a source of comfort knowing that each person played a role by seeing a different colour. together, their vision formed a rainbow for sure. </p><p>he looked like he was barely sixteen, just a kid, and his eyes darted around the relatively empty carriage, lingering on the middle-aged, stocky men on the other end. jinyoung, sitting across him, decided to extend some comfort, so he got up to sit next to him. yugyeom was initially terrified of this stranger coming toward him, but then jinyoung discreetly pulled up his sleeve to show him his own flag. the boy relaxed. </p><p>“it’s okay,” he whispered. “are you going home?”</p><p>a nod.</p><p>“are you scared to?”</p><p>another.</p><p>“your parents don’t support you?”</p><p>a sniffle. “they don’t know,” the boy said, wiping his shirt sleeve across the paint on his face with no effect. “but i know they won’t like it.” he rubbed the fabric more furiously and with each drag over the paint, jinyoung was shocked to see that one stripe grew greener and greener until he could see it. “the paint isn’t coming off!”</p><p>“green.”</p><p>“…what?”</p><p>jinyoung pointed to his face. “it just turned some shade of green. right now.”</p><p>yugyeom’s lips parted in surprise. “oh, i—so fast?”</p><p>he nodded slowly. “I guess so. what’s your name?”</p><p>“yugyeom.”</p><p>they sat there, staring at each other for a moment, before panic seized yugyeom again: the paint wasn’t coming off. jinyoung opened his bag for the makeup wipes he’d snatched from his friend jisoo and pulled one out. yugyeom watched him gratefully as he carefully dabbed at his chubby cheeks. </p><p>“how could you come out here all alone? it’s not safe,” he chided gently. “where did you tell your parents you were going?”</p><p>“to a friend’s house to sleep over,” yugyeom replied, not moving much while he wiped off the paint. “he’ll cover for me!” he added hastily when jinyoung tilted his head, apprehensive. his eyes fell on the wipe smeared with paint. “oh! i see the green!”</p><p>jinyoung smiled, and wiped off the last of it. “you’re going to be fine, alright? do you want me to walk you home?”</p><p>cheered up now that the paint was gone, yugyeom shook his head. “I’ll be okay. promise.”</p><p>jinyoung couldn’t help but squeeze his cheeks. “I believe you. be safe.”</p><p>the boy didn’t let go of his hand until the doors opened to his stop.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>couleur</em>
</p><p>bambam was tangerine, and the first time jinyoung saw him was a week after he was born, when, at six years old, he ran over to his neighbours’ house and peered over the bars of the crib. curiosity drew him to the baby, and the two older children of the house watched carefully as he held the newborn in his arms. </p><p>“it’s so small,” he whispered in awe.</p><p>“don’t say <em>it</em>, bambam’s a <em>he</em>.”</p><p>“bambam?” </p><p>“that’s his name. you know, from the flintstones?”</p><p>jinyoung spent most of the following summer at his neighbours’, playing with the baby even though he was mostly just carrying out a one-sided conversation. he hadn’t even realized that he was seeing the tangerine colour of the bib the baby wore—it crept up on him slowly and hit him in the face. if bambam, as the child was dubbed, could speak, surely it would say the same. </p><p>“hey bam, do you think this steel grey onesie is better? or this lava grey one?” he held up the two pieces of clothing, having learnt the shades at school, but too young to realize that these might not be grey at all, he just might not be able to see them. “hm,” he went on, as if the baby had given him an answer, and pressed the two against the flailing child. “I think the lava shade goes better with your bib—wait, whoa!” and then promptly dropped the clothes. as careful as a six-year-old could be, he gathered the relatively heavy infant into his arms and waddled out of the nursery, nearly giving bambam’s mother a heart attack. </p><p>“it’s a colour!” had been his only explanation. “I can see it, can you?”</p><p>(his mother could, in fact, see it, and informed him that it was orange.)</p><p>bambam had repeatedly made him tell this story over the years that they went to school together—true, jinyoung was already in middle school by the time bambam got to first grade, but regardless, the younger boy tailed him whenever and wherever he could. </p><p>it wasn’t until he left for college that he found that colours could fade. </p><p>it scared him, at first, because he had a tangerine orange charm on his bracelet—along with sky blue and that shade of the vase, and his sisters’ colours, and some others—and one morning after a hectic first semester where he couldn’t find time to connect with his old friends, he woke up to find that he couldn’t see the colour. </p><p>it was only after several panicked phone calls and text messages that he discovered that lack of contact caused colours to fade sometimes. often, the thought of the person in question was enough to make it reappear. jinyoung called bambam on the phone immediately, apologizing for ignoring him—the tangerine had returned to the charm almost at once. </p><p>“it’s okay, hyung,” had been bambam’s response. “it’s okay if it fades, as long as you let it come back.” jinyoung was taken aback by the uncharacteristic wisdom from his child, but he appreciated the love anyway. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>niram</em>
</p><p>youngjae was dandelion, and jinyoung lived in the same dorm room with him for three years until they were both accepted into different places for their master’s. he saw him for the first time when youngjae opened the door, greeting jinyoung with both his breathtaking smile and his helpful hands on his suitcase. jinyoung had actually stood there in a daze, until youngjae did a double take at his suitcase. </p><p>“was that yellow a second ago?” he asked, pointing. it was only then that jinyoung saw his suitcase was bright dandelion <em>yellow</em>. </p><p>“what the fuck,” had unfortunately been the first thing his new roommate heard him say. talk about a good first impression. but youngjae had laughed, a bright, booming laugh that bounced off the walls. “did i seriously leave the house with <em>this</em>? no wonder the guys downstairs were staring at me all weird! who has a yellow suitcase?”</p><p>and youngjae had laughed all the more, mouth open wide, and jinyoung thought privately to himself that this yellow, whatever shade it was, suited him. <em>perfectly</em>. once he got over the shock of having a yellow suitcase, the two shook hands. </p><p>“it’s not too bad a colour,” youngjae said defensively, “but you’re right. not on a suitcase. maybe i should paint spongebob on it.”</p><p>“don’t you dare.” it was bad enough that his sisters pranked him, but he certainly doesn’t need to be lugging around a <em>spongebob</em> suitcase. <em>please</em>. </p><p>“but,” youngjae added thoughtfully, “i already see yellow, though. before this.”</p><p>“must be different shades.”</p><p>“ah. i guess you’re right.”</p><p>that dandelion yellow was the first time jinyoung realized that colours could fade without losing sight of a person—they could fade according to emotion.</p><p>jinyoung noticed, not too long after, that some mornings, he woke up with an intensely bright suitcase staring at him from its corner, and other days, it was dull—and it had nothing to do with the light in the room. it didn’t take him much time after that to deduce what was happening: when the colour was bright, so was youngjae; and when it had faded, youngjae was depressed.</p><p>when he brought it up, youngjae denied being upset at all, but slowly, as they got used to each other, he allowed jinyoung to see him at his worse times more often. jinyoung found another charm that matched the colour of the suitcase and added it to his bracelet. he took to staring at it between his classes, just to make sure that youngjae was okay, whether youngjae needed him. </p><p>he remembers running out of class one day back to the dorm during one of youngjae’s free periods, to find the boy sobbing on the floor with torn notes around him. a panic attack. jinyoung didn’t dare touch him, just talked him through it until he could stand again. he vowed, right there, to pay closer attention to his charm—lectures could wait, youngjae couldn’t. </p><p>“let me help you, jae-yah,” he murmured into the boy’s hair as he stroked him to sleep that night. “I’m always here for you.” </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>rang</em>
</p><p>jackson was scarlet, and jinyoung heard him before he saw him for the first time. they shared no classes, but that wasn’t necessary. every single person that set foot in the university during those four years, and several years after that, knew who jackson was. </p><p>jackson was that guy. that guy who knew who you were, through some obscure mutual friend. that guy who had the power to talk to you for a minute and make you feel like a popular kid in high school—like you mattered to him, like he wanted you around. no one was immune to his charisma, not even the professors. </p><p>the first time jinyoung met him was in the cafeteria and the only thing he’d done to grab jackson’s attention was to take the last chocolate milk. </p><p>“hey! you’re eric’s friend jimin’s voice partner’s roommate or something, right?” were the words out of his mouth. jinyoung froze in place, astounded by the power those words held—they almost forced him off his feet. “uh…youngjae!” jackson snapped his fingers. “you’re youngjae’s roommate, right?”</p><p>“i…um. yes, i am.” </p><p>he nodded approvingly. “you’re alright. what’s your name?”</p><p>“jinyoung.”</p><p>“nice, nice—” and then jinyoung was stepping back in alarm, nearly dropping his chocolate milk, because the lanyard around jackson’s neck that held his university ID card glowed a startling red. “oh, cool,” jackson pointed, “that’s red, isn’t it? some shade, anyway.”</p><p>jinyoung, bemused at jackson’s lack of reaction, stuttered, “why—why is it super bright?” </p><p>“ah.” jackson shakes his head, smiling. “I’m a super bright person, i guess. happens to everyone, don’t worry about it—it’ll fade in a while.” </p><p>there was a sort of melancholy about that statement, he felt, when he thought about it later on, in his room. sure enough, his lanyard’s colour had faded, only pulsing every now and then. </p><p>jinyoung wondered, for all jackson’s ability to make acquaintances, whether he had anyone whose colour stayed. with all his temporary friends, jinyoung would have thought that jackson’s world would be colourful and full of life, not a trace of grey to be found—it didn’t seem like that, though. was jackson upset about it, if he only saw a few colours permanently? and did his permanent friends ever grow tired of seeing such blinding colours? did they curse at whatever object shone regularly, maybe chuck it somewhere they wouldn’t have to see it?</p><p>some motherly instinct grabbing at him the same way it did with youngjae, jinyoung found himself wanting to know jackson, to be an actual friend to him, someone who could tolerate the vibrance. but how, with jackson as busy as he was? where would jinyoung even find him, talk to him? </p><p>he didn’t answer when youngjae asked him if he was alright, just rolled over, formulating a plan to get jackson’s timetable.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>boja</em>
</p><p>mark was azure, and jinyoung didn’t get along with him—they were in elementary school, and on the first day of third grade, he beat the rest of the students in the class on a quiz that the teacher set up to test how much they already knew. mark had fallen behind by just two points. he hadn’t realized how badly mark took that and the heaps of praise that the teacher gave him, but he did notice the uniform shirts of all the students in class turn a dull, dirty brown. he’d frozen, midsentence, and asked, “ma’am, what—what colour are our shirts?”</p><p>and he waited for an answer, a chance to think that brown was an awful colour for a school uniform, but her response had been, “blue. i think the shade is called azure. i can’t see it yet, just so you know.”</p><p>then why did he see brown?</p><p>one look at mark’s face, and jinyoung understood that he saw the same thing.</p><p>mark had been the first time he realized that colours could, but rarely, completely change.</p><p>jinyoung cornered him at recess later that day. “you see brown, too?” mark had been defensive, jealous and too proud to make amends, had refused to talk to him for an entire month, until their teacher paired them together for a project on the historical periods of the country. </p><p>“you know we have to work together, right?” mark pursed his lips.</p><p>“let’s just put this behind us, come on. i don’t want to fail this project.” no response. </p><p>“look, I’m sorry for whatever I’ve done to hurt you.” jinyoung sighed. “I really wanted to be your friend, why won’t you even talk to me?”</p><p>mark turned to look at him, eyes darting to his shirt. “you want to be my friend?”</p><p>jinyoung nodded vigorously. “yeah! ever since the first day! you got a really high score, right? you’re super smart.”</p><p>mark appeared slightly mollified. “but you came in first, you’re smarter than me.”</p><p>“I probably just got lucky,” jinyoung said dismissively.</p><p>“you shouldn’t say that,” mark scolded. “my dad says that if you say bad things about yourself, it’ll come true eventually.”</p><p>“wait!” jinyoung grabbed mark’s wrist. “look at your shirt! it’s not brown anymore!”</p><p>“neither is yours!”</p><p>their eyes darted around the room where the other children were talking about their own projects. all of their uniform shirts were blue. what had the teacher said? azure?</p><p>“it looks like the sky, but like, darker!” he’d exclaimed.</p><p>mark was interested. “you can see the sky?”</p><p>he nodded, suddenly a little proud. “it’s from my dad. he started seeing it the day i was born.” mark’s jaw dropped in awe. “but the sky isn’t always that colour, so he can’t see it all the time. just some days when there aren’t any clouds. or rain.”</p><p>“boys!” the two jumped in their seats. “are you working on your project?”</p><p>“yes, ma’am!” they chirped, and then, smiling cheekily at each other, bent their heads to whisper about colonial periods in history.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>chroma</em>
</p><p>jaebeom was silver, and the only vacant seat in jinyoung’s high school classroom was next to him. mark had moved temporarily to los angeles in the middle of eighth grade, leaving him heartbroken. he hadn’t expected his desk partner to be exactly what he needed. jaebeom was quiet and respectful of his space, silently kept his writing utensils in the middle of the desk when he noticed that jinyoung only had a pencil, angled his notebook so jinyoung could copy off him when he got lost in class. they hardly spoke, but jaebeom’s small gestures that saved him accumulated in his mind until he could no longer bear the guilt of not doing anything in return. but what could he do?</p><p>until one free period, he saw jaebeom pull out a book—<em>the kite runner</em> by khaled hosseini. he wouldn’t admit it, but he spent much of that period watching jaebeom’s face carefully. he knew what to do now. that evening, he bribed his sister to let him borrow her copy of <em>a thousand splendid suns</em>; he hadn’t read it yet, himself, but she said it had been tragically beautiful. something told him that jaebeom would like it. </p><p>“what—” jaebeom had tried to ask when jinyoung presented the book to him. the younger boy faltered a little under the strong gaze. </p><p>“you were reading <em>the kite runner</em>,” he tried to explain, “so i thought you might like to borrow this.”</p><p>jaebeom’s gaze flickered between the book and jinyoung, and then he smiled.</p><p>jaebeom was silver, and jinyoung didn’t notice.</p><p>that started their friendship, one that blended them together so perfectly, one learning the other’s mannerisms, and the other doing the same, until their parents and friends kept telling them they had become one single person. they began hanging back after school, to dropping by each other’s houses, to sleepovers that became excuses for long, deep discussions they couldn’t have anywhere else. </p><p>but it nagged at jinyoung—what colour was new to him? he’d waited, for so long, to discover the colour that would truly bring them together, but found nothing. it wasn’t that green hue of the carpet in the dining room, it wasn’t the lavender of his mother’s candles, it wasn’t anything he could see…then what was it?</p><p>it nearly destroyed him thinking about it, because that could only mean that their relationship wasn’t real—but how more genuine could it get? he’d never felt this way about <em>anyone</em>. then what was the matter?</p><p>“have you read that book?” jinyoung asked one night as they lay side by side staring at the glow-in-the-dark star stickers on jaebeom’s ceiling. “it’s called <em>spectrum</em> i think.”</p><p>“what’s it about?” </p><p>“a person who can’t see any colour until he meets his soulmate, and then he can see all the colours from that moment. it’s not that bad.”</p><p>he hears jaebeom scoff. “that sounds stupid, what if you never meet your soulmate? you’ll have to live in grey forever.”</p><p>and jinyoung couldn’t help but murmur, “better than not having a colour at all for someone.”</p><p>jaebeom turned to him. “what? what do you mean?” jinyoung shook his head, rolling over to his other side, away from jaebeom. “no, jinyoung, look at me.” he felt a hand pull his shoulder. “who are you talking about?”</p><p>“i’m talking about <em>us</em>!” he cried, sitting up, jaebeom following. “why don’t we have a colour? aren’t we close enough? where’s <em>our</em> colour?”</p><p>jaebeom stilled. “you—you haven’t noticed it?”</p><p>jinyoung huffed out a breath. “noticed what?”</p><p>a quiet tension had filled the room. jaebeom breathed out slowly, and reached into his shirt to pull out his necklace. jinyoung’s breath hitched. </p><p>“it’s shining,” he said, stunned. “it’s all…glittery.”</p><p>“it’s <em>silver</em>, jinyoung-ah,” jaebeom told him. “grey, but glitter.” jinyoung’s eyes met his, and it scared him, so he let out a nervous laugh. </p><p>“oh.” he stared determinedly at his hands. “I didn’t….”</p><p>“it’s okay,” jaebeom said simply, tangling his fingers with jinyoung’s. “we’re just boring.”</p><p>“we’re not <em>boring</em>!” he protested, dragging his best friend down with him. a minute passed in silence. “okay. maybe we are a little bit.” and jaebeom had laughed, a deep rumbling chuckle that soothed him from the inside out. </p><p>it’s the same laugh that greeted him at the train station when he rushed back home for his first break during his master’s. the same arms that embraced him when he shook off his backpack. the same hands, adorned with a matching silver bracelet, that cupped his face and kissed him. </p><p>“hey, soulmate. ready to go home?”</p><p>and jinyoung thinks he doesn’t care that he can’t see everything. not anymore.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i haven't come across any stories where a person sees all colours suddenly on meeting their soulmate, and then don't carry on with their lives like nothing else has changed. where is the overwhelming feelings? why the romance trigger? people don't get used to seeing colour all at once, it takes time. where are those transition stories? </p><p>i know my universe isn't perfect, yet, but i love this concept a lot more. romance isn't everything.<br/>also the titles are 'colour' in different languages</p></blockquote></div></div>
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